


Pick Up Trick

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, One Night Stands, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian doesn't <i>need</i> hookers. But he can <i>have</i> whatever he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Up Trick

The night starts out like any other. Brian’s tossing back drinks, happy to let his liver soak up anything that his bloodstream doesn’t. He counters the alcohol with a fingernail of coke a few times. Getting pass out drunk only guarantees he’ll go home with someone he’ll regret in the morning. He’s Brian Kinney, god of Babylon, but even he is susceptible to beer goggles. He wants to roll his eyes at any man that has bothered to stick around until morning, not shudder away from him.

If Michael was here to watch him separate the wheat from the chaff, he’d probably be surprised at the handful of grain Brian ends up with. Or maybe not. Michael knows him like no one else, and even Emmett knows when Brian’s not going for the twink boy, he likes a built man.

The man Brian focuses on -the one he’ll have within the hour, Brian Kinney doesn’t get turned down- doesn’t fit in Babylon. Not that he’s straight. You don’t walk into a place like Babylon without knowing what it is. And if you do, you don’t last more than thirty seconds before walking back out. His continued presence means he’s sucked at least one dick in his life. He’s tall, would tower over- well. He’s taller than most of the jailbait twinks here. Muscular, too. His arms strain the hems of his black t-shirt sleeves. His thighs could probably break someone’s neck, if he felt like it.

He goes to the bar and swallows down another drink. Not to build up his courage to ask the man to follow him to the backroom. He’s not Theodore, he doesn’t need to shore up his self esteem with rotting two by fours. He just wants the crisp slide of vodka. It’s over ice, not that that matters. It won’t have time to melt before he’s putting the empty glass back on the sticky bartop. 

Brian carefully enters the man's space and murmurs in his ear “you want a drink first, before we leave?”

“You’re confident we’re going to.” It’s not quite a question, just enough to act as a verbal eyebrow raise.

“If we go to mine, I only have water.”

“A beer.”

A beer is good. It’s nothing like fruity little wine coolers, it won’t leave sweetness and bitter nostalgia on Brian’s tongue when he kisses the man.

The man has the throat control only queers and fratboys can pull off. He manages to down the bottle without taking a break for air. Brian wonders for a second if he’s both. It doesn’t really matter. He’ll fuck a fratboy as soon as an physics major, he’s not prejudiced.

“I’m Ray,” he says when he stands from putting the bottle on the floor. It’ll be kicked across the room before one of the hapless staff picks it up, but Brian can’t fault him for it. He’s done it a million times himself.

“Brian.”

“I’ll want some of that water next,” Ray says. It’s a very manly sort of flirting.

They’re halfway home when Ray gets a text. He wants to know if his friend can come with. Brian really isn’t the type to turn down a threesome, or for that matter an orgy, as long as everyone in the room is at least an eight. Ray doesn’t look like the type to have ugly friends. Brian agrees, and takes the left lane when Ray tells him to. The driver behind him lays into his horn, but Brian has never been an anxious driver, and he isn’t about to start now.

Blame the alcohol, or the way Ray gives directions one street at a time. Whatever the cause, it takes Brian a good while to realise they’re in the hooker district. By the time he does Ray’s friend is already in the backseat.

“Brian Kinney does not pay for sex,” he announces over the radio.

“Nothing to be ashamed about,” Mikey murmurs. 

“It’s not shame. It’s pride. I don’t need to pay. I am not Theodore.” 

“Fine. Drop us off at the next stop sign.” Brian looks across to Ray, who looks like he means it.

Brian works in advertising. He knows what it looks like when people are playing hardball. This time it’s not change the font or we walk, or lower your price or we won't recommend your business to our many acquaintances. It’s simple; both or neither. It’s not like he couldn’t go back to Babylon and get another boy. He knows who he is, he knows what his skills are. On the other hand, Ray is pretty hot. Brian Kinney doesn’t pay for sex but he could afford to. It would be a great distraction. When he doesn’t have men on him he starts thinking about stupid blond boys. Either way he’s got to decide in the next minute, before he hits a red light and they open the doors and climb out.

He considers asking them their rates, but doesn’t. This is one of those situations where if you don’t know if you can afford something, you can’t. If this is his splurge of the moment he’s not about to gawk at the price tag. Brian doesn’t ask their rates, and he doesn’t give any other hint that he’s changed his mind. He just continues to drive them to his loft, where they follow him into the industrial elevator without concern. In that way the couple fucking probably works for them. For as much as Brian’s never thought about the daily lives of prostitutes, it makes sense that it’s safer with a buddy watching. Less chance of getting murdered like that poor fuck Debbie found and got in a dither about.

The first thing Ray does when they get inside is take off his shirt, followed quickly by his jeans. He's not wearing underwear. It’s a bold move, one that Brian likes. He's had his share of people that try to make a hookup more than it is. It figures that hookers would be some of the first to share his 'pleasure then goodbye' reasoning. 

Brian’s probably had sex in every inch of his home. His diversity is one of the many things that makes him proud of himself. He’s had enough threesomes to know bed and floors give more room for maneuverability than showers, and beds are more comfortable than floors. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the couch, then leads both men to his California King bed.

“What do you want?” 

Brian thinks about it for a moment. “I want the one of you I’m paying to suck me ‘til I’m hard enough to fuck the other one.”

Ray grins, then pushes Brian lightly until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Mikey drops to his knees. Mikey’s throat is open around him. Brian bucks forward, not holding back. Mikey takes everything he has and still manages to keep his tongue work up.

Mikey stops before he comes. Brian wouldn’t expect any less, it’s what he’s paying for. Mikey’s lips are wet and red when he pulls off, cheeks a blotchy blush. The way so many people can perform the same act and look different doing it never ceases to thrill Brian. The day it does is the day he ends it all. He might even use the same method he tried when he turned thirty. No fuss, no muss, just an eternal orgasm.

A touch to his shoulder makes him look back. Ray’s sprawled across the bed, hand on his cock, obviously happy with what he’s just viewed. “Do you want to top or bottom? I don’t care.”

“Roll over.” Like that’s an option.

Once Ray’s face is buried in the pillow Brian crawls to him and straddles him. Apart from the tattoo on his arm his body is unmarked, and beautiful. Brian parts Ray’s hair to bite the nape of his neck then starts licking down his spine. When his tongue gets to where it needs to be, Ray’s ass arches up to give him better access. Everything that follows from there just comes naturally to him. To Ray and Mikey too. Everything he does elicits a response, clenched fists and legs widening open and groans. Or maybe that’s just a hooker’s natural ability to act. Either way it ends with the three of them coming, which is what matters.

In the lull afterwards, Mikey gets off the bed. There are only so many places he can go, with his clothing still in a heap beside the bed. Five minutes later Brian can hear the water in the bathroom running. To that soundtrack, Ray rolls over to look at him.

“You know, I’m not a hooker. We’re roommates. He can’t afford the rent. I got a roomie because I couldn’t afford it myself.”

Brian can think of one, maybe two instances when he’d be interested in justification. Now is not one of them. He blinks and waits for Ray to continue, positive he’s not done yet.

“Really, he’d be having sex anyway. We knew each other before this, I know him. Being a hooker suits him. Not me, though.”

“So that means you’ll sleep over while he goes back to the street?” He doesn’t ask because he cares. He asks because the sooner they have this conversation the sooner he can sleep.

“No! I always go with him. Make sure they don’t hurt him, make sure that he gets his money. I would never stay somewhere without him.”

That doesn’t make Ray a concerned friend. That makes him a pimp. Brian decides not to say that though. People rarely want to hear the truth. God knows he doesn’t.


End file.
